


Dead Meat or Fresh Grease?

by thatredscarf



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - Greasers, Bromance to Romance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gang Violence, Guns, I'm Bad At Summaries, Internalized Homophobia, Knives, M/M, Motorcycles, Mutual Pining, Promiscuous Mondo, Prude Taka, Rock and Roll, Socs, who put the bomp in the bombuhbombuhbomp, who put the deeb in the deebadeepadeep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:28:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29152026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatredscarf/pseuds/thatredscarf
Summary: Alternative Title: Red is not capable of cognitive thought. Only Ishimondo brainrot.I literally can’t come up with a summary so just read the first chapter and tags- you’ll like it I promise, I beg of you.
Relationships: Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo
Comments: 7
Kudos: 55





	1. Premise/Explanation

This is going to be a chaptered Kiyotaka x Mondo fic in an interesting Alternate Universe I haven’t seen done before.

I was originally going to put this in the notes of the first chapter, but it ended up being way too long so it has its own chapter. Here’s an explanation of the two terms this work will revolve around:

* * *

** Greasers :  **

Young men, commonly seen as “rough” or “tough.” Almost exclusively from impoverished or low-class families, some having no family at all. Not many have cars. Many take part in motorcycle clubs/gangs or street gangs. Greasers are easily recognizable by their hair; most commonly, slicked-back, pompadoured, jelly-rolled, and so on. Their fashion consists of denim or leather jackets and leather boots, Chuck Taylor All-Stars ( _converse high tops, basically. Yes they’re that old, I didn’t know either_ ) “wifebeater” tank-tops, and jeans ( _most commonly Levi’s_ ). Greasers are well known for their shared music tastes as well; doo-wop, a black genre of music that traveled to mainstream American music through Italian American performers- but they were also heavily associated with rock ‘n’ roll, especially Elvis Presley, whom many greasers coined their hairstyle from. During the twenty-odd years the subculture was in full swing, Greasers materialized the connection between rock music and juvenile delinquency. Smoking, drinking, knives and guns kept in back pockets- Greasers embodied all of the bad-boy stereotypes we still hold today. Furthermore, many viewed greasers as the type to initiate sexual violence. The idea of big bad guys forcing naughty things upon girls they fancied scared parents and older brothers- but also had many young middle and upper-class women incredibly aroused.

** TL;DR: Greasers are hot motorcycle rock ‘n’ roll bad boys who smoke, drink, get in fights and steal girls. **

* * *

** Socials (Socs for short) :  **

Also known as Ivy League, the Soc subculture is a style of dress that originated on college campuses, specifically Ivy League schools, hence the name. It is seen as “preppy” and always associated with upper class individuals. Their look is inspired by high-class british attire. Socs wear things that look appropriate for sports like golf or polo; cable knit tank tops, sweater vests, oxford shirts, Breton striped shirts, argyle socks, wingtip shoes, tweed jackets, irish walking hats, and Madras shirts were especially popular at the time. Commonly known as “white trash” among the Greasers; seen as “jocks” and “preps,” snobby and elitist. They often have cars, nice ones too, like Mustangs. 

** TL;DR: Rich people who think they’re better than everyone ‘cause they got cars and dress nice. **

_ P.S. Socs is pronounced like “soshis” not “socks.” _

* * *

** Divide between Greasers and Socs : **

In media, many favor Greasers- human tendency to root for the underdog- and Socs are always depicted as cold, aristocratic, snooty bullies, but many fail to understand that neither side is “good” nor “evil.” Both deal with internal struggles. A quote from  _ The Outsiders  _ depicts it best:

" _No, It's not just money. Part of it is, but not all. You greasers have a different set of values. You're more emotional. We're sophisticated - cool to the point of not feeling anything. Nothing is real to us. Rat race is a perfect name for it, We're always going and going, and never asking where. Did you ever hear of having more than you wanted? So that you couldn't want anything else and then you started looking for something else you want? It seems like we're always searching for something to satisfy us, and never finding it. Maybe we could lose our cool we could._ "

Greasers are known for feeling and showing their emotions all too intensely, making them passionate romantic partners and amazing friends, but become explosive and impulsive when upset. They have a strong sense of family; though often not through blood. Greasers form incredibly close bonds with their gang members/friends, as close, if not more, as brothers. Greasers live in poverty. They don’t have nice houses or cars, and some struggle to get food on the table. They ride around in beat-up old cars and janky used motorcycles, but they have their brothers with them.

On the other hand, Socs are disconnected from their personal relationships. They have everything they’ve ever wanted handed to them on a silver platter, but money can’t buy brothers. It’s hard to go very in-depth with this, but that works out because there’s not much to analyze about them at all. Socs are husks of people. They don’t have anything to do or hope for, ‘cause they’ve done it and they’ve got it.

In summary, Greasers and Socs both have what the other desire. Greasers need money, which the Social’s have; while Soc’s yearn to experience the brotherly love between Greasers.

The groups hate each other because they’re jealous; so they fight. Sometimes in rumbles- fights planned for a certain times where the two groups brawl it out. Sometimes just skin: punching, kicking, biting, even, and etc. But there’s also rumbles with weapons, like knives, pool cues, guns, chains, anything they can get their hands on. Other times, they’d jump each other. Socs preferred to comb the poor neighborhoods in their Mustangs, usually groups of 4-6 and they would attack lonesome or pairs of young Greasers. Greasers, however, would parade around and pick fights with groups of Socs their own size.

** TL;DR: They’re both jealous of the other so they beat each other up. **

* * *

** The actual premise (lmao finally): **

Now with the explanation out of the way, here’s the scenario this fic is going to be about.

This story takes place somewhere in the United States during the mid-1950’s and 60’s. Mondo and Taka live in the same town, which harbors a poor side and a rich side.

Mondo Oowada’s a Greaser (surprise, surprise!) and Kiyotaka Ishimaru’s a Soc. Now you may be saying, “ _Hey, isn’t Taka like,, canonically super poor_??” and you are completely correct. That’s where this idea stemmed off from.

Anyways, Mondo’s a Greaser, him and Taka butt heads all the time. Kiyotaka’s grandfather is a successful politician, which is what landed him a spot as a Soc. Until his grandfather is exposed for all the shady business he’d been doing behind closed doors and gets thrown in jail- leaving his family to pay off his massive debt. Taka and his dad end up having to sell all their stuff; their nice house, all their good clothes (so Taka is reduced to one outfit), and even their car. They move to the impoverished side of town, in Mondo’s neighborhood.

Mondo’s all like “ _What the fuck are you doing here_?! ” and Taka’s like “ * _sobs_ * ” and bromance (without the b) ensues.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey gang; what you’re about to read is FAR from my best work. It’s been extremely hard for me to write during the past month or two, so this was written in chunks every few weeks. I planned for this chapter to be a lot longer, but I can’t even force myself to read over this, let alone add to it. I really apologize that this sucks ass but I would feel worse if I postponed this any longer.

“Daiya?” Mondo called for his older brother from where he was lounged on the couch.

“Yeah?” He responded, muffled by his mouthful of cereal.

“So I’ve been thinking about droppin’ out..”

Daiya spat his cereal into the sink and roared, “WHAT?!” 

“I was just thinkin’! ‘M gonna fix motorcycles when I grow up and it ain’t like schools teachin’ me any of that!” He scooted back into the cushions as Daiya stomped to stand in front of him.

“No way in  hell  are you droppin’ out!” He barked, jamming his finger into Mondo’s chest.

“But you dropped out!” He cried out.

“Fuck yeah I did! So I could take care of your sorry ass and make sure ya finish school!”

“But I-“

“No!” Daiya lunged forward, and Mondo, for a moment, was almost scared he would hit him, but that fear dissipated when his brother wrapped his arms around him.

“I love ya, Mondo. Schools’ the best for you, okay?”

Mondo huffed, “Jeez, you don’t have to get all sappy! I’ll stay in school you big lug.”

Daiya’s pats on Mondo’s back were interrupted by the sputtering of the broken doorbell- then cursing, and jiggling of the doorknob. Daiya let go of Mondo so the latter could get up to answer it, but the door opened before he reached it.

A call of “HELLOOO~” echoed through the front hallway, followed by three pairs of familiar footsteps that brought a smile to Mondo’s face.

First to round the corner into the living room was Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu. He was a relatively new asset to their “gang”; but a useful one. His snarky remarks and impulsiveness made for banter to pass the time, and he was a monster in rumbles. Despite his small stature, he packed a punch and always left more than a few Socs bleeding.

Next was Souda Kazuichi. He was somewhat of a coward and slobbered all over the ladies, but at least he was always there when Daiya’s bike broke down or Yasuhiro’s beat-up truck needed tuning.

Last to enter the living room was the aforementioned Yasuhiro Hagakure. In all honesty, he was a space cadet and a smoker, the second oldest after Daiya and not nearly a strong role model as he was; but he was “chill,” as anyone who knew Hiro would describe him. Mellow and fun to hang out with, albeit a bit aloof, he was a real good, trustworthy friend. 

“Morning, you guys,” Mondo grinned at them as Fuyuhiko hopped over the back at the couch.

“Mornin’!” Hiro said as he and a half-asleep Souda sat on the floor in front of the couch, the pink-haired of the two tipped his head back onto the cushions with a snore.

“Hey, you’re skipping today, right?” Fuyuhiko turned to look up at Mondo. Mondo, in turn, gave Daiya the best puppy-eyes a gangster could muster.

Daiya released a long, drawn-out sigh. “Yes, Mondo will skip today. But he’s going to school tomorrow, the day after that,  and  the day after that,” he grumbled, “Don’t get into trouble. I’ll be in the garage when you come get me to pick up Chihiro.”

Chihiro Fujisaki was one of the two non-present members of the gang. He was short and cried a lot; he was seen as weak and often beat up by Socs until Daiya found him wounded one day and took him in. Chihiro was anything but weak, however; he was strong enough to wear and do what he wanted, without fear of his reputation. He wore skirts some days and even painted his nails until they chipped off- Mondo was almost jealous of the little guy for his freedom in self-expression. Chihiro was the token little brother of the group.

The other missing Greaser was Akane Owari. The only girl of the group, she was beautiful and kind; or as Souda liked to put it, big boobs and an even bigger heart. However, the biggest thing of Akane’s was her monster appetite and athleticism. She could stretch farther, run longer, and eat more than any of them. She was like a superhero sister to the rest of the gang.

After a day of stealing hubcaps, messing around at the gas station, and even throwing rocks at Byakuya’s fancy car as he drove by, Mondo and his friends had picked up Daiya and Akane on their way to get Chihiro.

They held lighthearted conversation in Yasuhiro’s pickup truck on their way to the spot the gang planned meet-up with Chihiro. Hiro parked the car in some abandoned backyard and they all hopped a fence to get to the convenience store where the littlest of the group was presumably waiting for them.

Chihiro had picked out the spot himself, and it was used when he was the only one to attend school; which wasn’t often. Though the ‘school’ aspect of school wasn’t particularly fun for any of them, goofing off at lunchtime and heated glares shared with Socs through the halls were good times.

Mondo’s pleasant train of thought was cut off by a sob-like scream coming from the alley behind the convenience store.

“Aww, you’re gonna cry? Why don’t you run off with your tail between your legs- I mean, what the fuck even  is between your legs, huh?” Called a male voice mockingly, followed by a round of ugly laughs.

The whimper that followed, immediately recognizable as Chihiro’s, was what called them to book it into that alley.

“YOU SONS OF BITCHES!” Mondo yelled as he and Daiya were in the lead of the running group; they skidded as they reached the alley. 

Chihiro was pinned against the wall by a group of Socs, maybe four or five, but they started to run away so it was hard to count. One of them had cut Chihiro’s jaw and his leather skirt was hiked up a bit. 

Yasuhiro quickly picked up Chihiro and him and Souda ran back to the truck, while Mondo, Daiya, Akane, and Fuyuhiko followed in pursuit of the Socs who were scrambling to get in their car and drive off.

As the guy driving the Mustang slammed on the gas, Mondo tried to grab him through the open window but he was going to fast for the biker to get any sort of grip. Luckily for him though, Akane had ripped off a side mirror on the other end of the car and Daiya had dented the door. Fuyuhiko even attempted to chuck a bat he’d found on the ground as the car drove away, but it missed the trunk by a hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t even bother to put italics or the little timeskip separater thingymajigs but whatever omg I just had to get rid of this


End file.
